


Can't Never Could

by NevaRYadL



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Established Relationship, Fix-It, Fluff and Smut, High Honor Arthur Morgan, M/M, Oral Sex, Trans Arthur Morgan, Trans Charles Smith
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2020-09-29 23:21:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20444255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NevaRYadL/pseuds/NevaRYadL
Summary: The Van der Linde gang is forced out of Blackwater after a boat robbery gone terribly wrong.But what if... what happens afterwards... were just a lil'... different?





	1. Colter

**Author's Note:**

> Hello one and all! This is my attempt at a fix it fic for rdr2 because [loud sobbing]
> 
> Anyway, important notes:  
-Some people get to live, but it's already plotted out for others to die in their place  
-Arthur and Charles are already in a relationship at the start of the fic, details on how and why will show up in later chapters  
-Both Arthur and Charles are transgender men and no I do not give a fuck about 'historical inaccuracies' or any of that horseshit. The best you'll get is 'as close to' period accurate binding (not unsafe)/packing/topping  
-No I will not be writing '''historically accurate''' bullshit like period typical racism/homophobia/transphobia etc etc etc, this is a fun fic  
-As the story goes on it will diverge more and more from canon  
-Happy ending, happy times, minimal as possible angst

Arthur remembered saying something, drunk off his ass and flushed with the adrenaline of stagecoach robbery done damn well, something that he was deeply regretting now.

_It’ll be a cold day in hell before I doubt Dutch._

Well… it was a cold day. Colder than any cold day that hell could make. And Arthur was feeling like it was karma because he sure as hell was doubting Dutch as he urged his borrowed horse on through the blizzard currently beating against the earth with a fury like no woman hath no. The wind bit deeply in through his coat and was in the process of freezing his skin stiff underneath. His hair was already frozen stiff where it was not protected by his hat. HIs joints hurt with bright and brunt and deep stabbing pain from the cold that was worming its way into his clothing.

All because of a bad boat robbery that had been botched worse than… hell they had never really botched anything this bad that they had forced to ride like wolves were on their heels for three days straight. Arthur was pretty sure they had managed to cross two states with their crazed pace.

What the hell happened on that boat…

Arthur urged his upset horse onward through the storm, trying to find shelter in the mad, mad weather. Hopefully soon… the women and Jack were in the wagon and Davey… oh god Davey. Not to mention most everyone else was running on no or little sleep over the past three days. If they did not find shelter soon they would all be in big, big trouble. And the lawmen after them? Forget them, the consequences would be much worse than someone shooting or hanging them all.

Teeth chattering away, Arthur urged his horse onwards, trying to peer through the whiteout in front of him. Nothing but howling winds or snow coming at him, made his eyes water and ache something terrible. Face hurt all over actually, from the sore muscles of his jaw from his chattering teeth to the wind burnt skin of his cheeks, to his slowly getting wind burnt eyes. Fuck… he was not going to last much longer if he kept this--

A dark shape started to form ahead. Squinting and urging his tired horse along, Arthur crept closer and closer until he started to see it and other shapes.

Shelter.

* * *

Thankfully finding the group again was not too hard again. They were not exactly being quiet and they had a set of lanterns set up to try and make enough light to peer through the blizzard that they were foolishly trying to bull rush through. And the horse, tired and exhausted, were belting out the occasional distressed neigh as they were urged to keep going despite likely more than exhausted legs.

“Arthur! Any luck?”

Arthur dared to lift his head to squint at the slightly blurred shape of Dutch and Hosea sitting in the seat of the lead wagon.

“I found a place that we can get some shelter,” Arthur said, gesturing behind him towards the mining town that he had found. “Let Davey rest while he… you know… An old mining town, abandoned, it’s ain’t far. Come on.”

Arthur wheeled his horse around and once again started riding, feeling weariness drag at the corners of his eyes. He just wanted to shut his eyes, they were tired… but in this extreme cold that could be lethal. And right now they needed him to guide them to shelter.

“Come on!” Dutch hollered at the tired horses and the wagons trailing behind them.

Thankfully since he knew where he was going, finding the mining town was a hell of a lot faster than it had been the first time. Still felt like it had been far too long and Arthur could feel his tired mind clouding just a little bit more as he pushed his exhausted and tired body to the very edges of his endurance. Soon, soon, he kept reminding himself as he lead them onwards and into the collection of still mostly intact houses that probably had once belonged to a bustling mining town before the fucking cold had kicked everyone out.

They got the wagons part and found what looked like a barn to stick the horses in to spare them most of the biting cold wind. Arthur made sure to lovingly pet his borrowed horse for all its hard work, before following the group as they went towards that best looking house, Hosea leading them with a lantern and his pistol drawn. They waited for Hosea to push open the door and shine a light inside to make sure that there was no living creature around before calling for Davey to be brought in.

“Bring him in here!”

Bill helped Arthur bring Davey in on the makeshift stretcher that they had cobbled together for him, carrying him in and setting him on a pile of old boxes that looked a hell of a lot more sturdy than a dusty table that had made it through the abandoned years.

“Ms. Gaskill, get that fire lit quick,” Susan quickly ordered as everyone enjoyed the minute comfort of not having that cursed wind biting into them. “Miss Jones, bring in whatever blankets we have. Mr. Pearson, see what we’ve got in terms of food.”

Bless that woman for having a supernatural ability to keep her head on her shoulders, Arthur thought as he bitterly shivered and stood out of the way of the bustling bodies.

“... Davey’s dead,” Abiligal said loudly.

For a moment, everyone stood still. Another one bites the dust. They had tried so hard to keep him alive after losing so many others and he had made it so far…

“There was… nothing more than you could do,” Swanson said quietly.

“What are we gonna do? We need supplies,” Hoesa said, quickly trying to get people before they were lost in just… the horror that had been the past four days. It was easy to get lost in the sadness when there had been so much in such a short time. To so many lost loved ones.

“Well, first of all you’re gonna stay here…” Dutch started as someone produced two silver dollars to put on Davey’s eyes. Passage for the ferryman and to keep the man’s eyelids shut for the time being. No need to have a dead man’s depressed, pained and worried eyes wide open to stare at everyone as they tried to process it all. “And you are going to get yourself warm. Now I sent John and Micah scouting ahead.”

Arthur rubbed his face. Fuck he was tired. He would give anything to just… not be awake.

“Arthur and I,” Dutch continued, making Arthur turned his tired gaze to the man, “We’re gonna ride out and see if we can find one of them.”

“In this?” Arthur croaked out. His mouth was dried out. How long had it been since he drank something. What happened on that boat?

“Just for a bit. And I don’t see what other choice we have,” Dutch tried, obviously picking up on how exhausted and worn thin Arthur was. He could probably tell how tired and worn threadbare thin they all had been from the past three days. “Listen… listen to me all of you, for a moment.”

He turned to address the exhausted, half frozen, terrified and anxious people all packed together in the building. They tiredly turned their gazes to him, half glazed over as nothing but their loyalty made them care enough to listen.

“Now we’ve had… a bad couple of days,” Dutch started lamely before puffing himself up and starting again with a bit more gusto and passion. “I loved Davey… Jenny… Sean, Mac, they might be okay, we don’t know. But we lost from folks. Now, if I could… throw myself in the ground, in their stead… I’d do it, gladly.”

Despite it all, Arthur felt a bit of comfort. He nodded along with Dutch’s words, feeling a bit of something fill his empty spirit.

“But, we’re gonna ride out… and we are gonna find some food. Everybody, we’re safe now.”

There was a small obvious bit of relief and comfort on everyone’s faces now. It was one thing to foolish keep thinking something to assure one’s self, but hearing it from someone like Dutch? Well it was probably the best thing to hear after three days of tension, anxiety and dread and sadness. At the very least, they could relax their frozen joints some.

“There ain’t nobody following us through a storm like this one… and by the time they get here… well we’re gonna… we’re gonna be long gone,” Dutch said firmly. There was a swagger to his pose. He knew he had them listening now and knew he had to really be the leader. Keep them going on nothing but pure optomission and loyalty. “We’ve been through worse than this before. Mr. Pearson?”

Mr. Pearson lifted his balding head to look at Dutch from where he had been trying to hunch in on himself to make some warmth.

“Miss Grimshaw?”

Susan looked up and nodded.

“I need you two to turn this place into a camp. We may be here for a few days,” Dutch steeled his mouth and rose his voice. “Now all of you… all of you! Get yourself warm. Stay strong. Stay, with, me. We ain’t done yet!”

They certainly looked a hell of a lot more lively then they had been the past few days, a few people already shuffling around to break down old furniture into firewood and Grimshaw and Pearson already barking out orders to get people moving.

“Come on, Arthur,” Dutch said as he turned and started to leave. He reluctantly turned, still feeling the exhaustion dog him, and left with Dutch.

“Come on, we’ve got some work to do,” They heard Grimshaw say as they closed the door behind them.

“Well, we ain’t run into them yet,” Dutch muttered as they padded out into the snow, half thinking. “So… they both must have headed down the hill.”

“Sure,” Arthur muttered before turning his tired eyes to Dutch. “Hey… I ain’t had time to ask. What really went down back there on that boat?”

“We missed you, that’s what happened,” Dutch replied quickly, almost snapped. “Come on.”

Gritting his teeth, Arthur trudged through the snow after Dutch as they intended to go to the barn where they had quickly stashed all the horses.

“Hey! Need horses?” Charles called out, making Arthur turn towards the man quickly.

“Oh yeah,” Dutch said as he turned too, shining the lantern on the man as he led The Count and Tima towards them. “And Mr. Smith, get yourself indoors. You need to rest that hand.”

While Dutch painfully shuffled onto The Count, Arthur shot Charles a worried look. He had heard about his hand but was never able to get any specifics out of anyone. Everyone had been terrified for their lives and kept charging forward rather than worry about anything that was not immediately life threatening. But smart men knew that even small things could kill a man. Charles just shook his head when he got Arthur’s worried gaze, instead giving Arthur a small smile and urging Tima closer to him.

“I’ll live,” Charles said as Arthur got on the mare.

“Get indoors, son!” Dutch snapped before quickly calming his tone. “I… we need you strong.”

Charles frowned at Dutch’s back as the man took off ahead. Arthur threw Charles’ another look, the man returning it and the two holding a gaze for a moment before Dutch hollered for him to hurry up. Charles reluctantly started to shuffle towards the main house and Arthur reluctantly went after Dutch.

* * *

Went out for food. Came back with a couple dented cans of various things, and a few cracker and biscuit packages, and one heavily traumatized widow. But shit happened, especially under Dutch’s watch it seemed.

Mrs. Adler was handed off to capable hands, the woman’s wild and untrusting eyes darting around like a coyote stuck inside a cage. Only tampered from having seen what she had and being an unarmed woman in a nightgown surrounded by strangers. Though Arthur did not think for a second that she could not do some damage through sheer fury. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, Arthur remembered Miss Grimshaw saying at one point. Though to be fair, Arthur knew a number of women and could honestly say, hell hath no fury like a woman who was righteously pissed off and ready to chew a man’s throat out with her bare teeth. Arthur almost felt a soft spot for her.

Thankfully, Sadie seemed comfortable enough to let Tilly and Karen lead her to where they had a fire going and probably had some alcohol to warm her belly. Also clothing, that nightgown probably was doing nothing against the cold.

“They turned her into a widow, animals,” Dutch muttered as Sadie disappeared inside with Tilly and Karen. “I need some rest… I haven’t slept in three days…”

“You’re over here,” Miss Grimshaw said, gesturing to one of the buildings, “Miss O’Shea will show you the way. Mr Morgan? We put you in a room over here.”

“Thank you, Miss Grimshaw,” Arthur managed, already thinking of laying down and of sweet blissful rest.

“Mr. Bell, you’re with the fellas over there,” Miss Grimshaw said, gesturing to another building.

Micah almost immediately reacted, scoffing loudly.

“How come Arthur gets a room and I get a bunk bed next to Bill Williamson and a bunch of--”

“Micah Bell,” Arthur growled out, knowing the man enough to know that the next words out of the man’s mouth would have been a bunch of hateful, disgusting drivel. He could barely tolerate the man breathing the same air as him on a good day and this was perhaps one of the worst days of his life. “If you’re gonna be a prissy little bitch about it, take mine. I ain’t no dandy like yourself.”

“You--” Micah started, lurching towards him.

“He’s right, you’re raising a fuss over a temporary bed,” Hoesa piped up.

Even in the low light, everyone could see Micah burning with shame.

“Let’s trade anyway. We don’t need this idiot spouting shit and rightfully getting his ass kicked in the middle of the night,” Arthur huffed, shoving past the man. “Get!”

Arthur did not listen to the man as he started bellyaching loudly, just followed after where Lenny, Charles, Javier and Bill were stomping towards to get some rest for the night. Looked like a worker sleeping quarters based on the smaller size, bunk beds that mostly looked intact but a few that were better for firewood. They broke down those beds first and got the small fireplace in the corner started.

“I-I heard,” Lenny started as they dragged the good beds closer to the fireplace, “That huddling for warmth can help people survive cold nights.”

“I ain’t--” Bill start indignantly.

“Let’s shove two bunkbeds next to each, should fit two people,” Javier interjected.

“Bunch of--”

“Sleep by your damned self then, Bill,” Charles snapped as he helped the group shove two bunkbeds together.

Since Javier and Lenny were scrawny, compared to the much thicker physiques of Charles and Arthur, they crawled up on the top bunk and awkwardly huddled together for warmth, opting to face each other and get just close enough to start forming heat between their two bodies. Arthur and Charles shuffled into the bottom bunk and tried to get comfortable on the old hay mattress.

“I’m going out on patrol,” Bill grumbled.

“You do that, _Bill_,” Lenny sneered.

The second the door was shut behind him, Charles melted naturally against the back curve of Arthur’s body, slipping an arm around his torso and pulling him that much closer. Still shivering, but relaxed, Arthur fell asleep to the feeling of Charles pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.

And then three days of riding, stress, misery and everything else crashed down on him and he was out like a snuffed candle.


	2. Colter pt2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mentioned blood, mentioned violence, briefly mentioned animal death, mentioned Charles/Arthur
> 
> Arthur thinks a bit about what happened on the boat, what the hell is going on through Dutch's mind, and a bit about how he wants to be near Charles more
> 
> Also it's still fucking cold.

The next day was not any easier.

Thankfully huddling for warmth had let the four men sleep rather soundly. But the second they were up and about, they felt that cold biting deep into their flesh again. Winter’s teeth never dulled after all but fuck did it hurt all the same. There was not even time for a quickly taken morning kiss from Charles before there were people hollering and shouting orders around camp. And Arthur knew that someone would come stomping over to him to demand that he do something. All he got was a low murmured ‘good morning’ and ‘stay warm’ and he was out and about again.

First thing first… saving little John.

Apparently John had not shown up the night prior like anyone had hoped, nor the early morning. Abigail, despite the deeply confusing relationship she had with the man, asked Arthur to go look for him. In all honesty, he really did not want too. As far as anyone knew, John booked it the first chance he got. Not the first time he skipped out on the gang or on Abigail or, hell! Even his own damn child, the poor sweet little angel. Lily livered, unloyal coward could go rot in hell for all Arthur cared.

“He ain’t been seen in two…” Abigail tried when Arthur tried to ease her down, angry, face furrowed and teeth gritted before she paused. She drew herself up and when she spoke again, it was in a minutely calmer tone. “Two days.”

“Your John’ll be fine,” Arthur said, trying his legendary charm to work. “I mean… he may be as dumb as rocks and dull as rusted iron. But that ain’t changin’ because he got caught in some snowstorm.”

Abigail seemed to deflate, knowing that Arthur would remain as stubborn as her on this.

“At least go take a look,” Hosea said, sounding dead tired. Arthur grimaced. Hosea was getting involved, which meant that he would probably end up having to do it anyway. The man did so love pulling out the ‘you think of me as a father figure’ card whenever Arthur was being stubborn. “Javier?”

“Yes?” Javier piped up, already sounding like he knew what he was going to be asked to do, puffing away at his cigarette in likely a desperate attempt to get some warmth, even poisonous, inside his lungs.

“Javier, will you ride out with Arthur, to take a look for John?” Hosea said. Upon seeing Javier’s _thrilled and titillated_ face along with Arthur’s frowning one, changed tactics. “You’re the two best fit me we’ve got.”

“Now?” Javier asked, a shiver in his voice making a point.

“She’s… we’re all… pretty worried about him,” Hosea said, adding peer pressure now. Javier cracked underneath of it, Arthur just set his jaw.

“I know if the situation was reversed and…” Javier snuffed his cigarette and stashed it away in his case, standing and slipping out of his pistols out of his belt, sauntering over to Arthur. The man held it out and Arthur gritted his teeth as he took it briskly. God fucking dammit.

“Thank you,” Abigail sighed with relief.

Just glowering deeper, Arthur walked out with Javier to get the horses, Javier his and Arthur’s the one he took from Sadie’s barn. He missed his old horse and he missed Blackwater and this was all bullshit. But this was what was before him so he had to make due.

But who the hell said he had to be bright eyed and bushy tailed about it.

“This way. Last I know, Johnny was headed up the river,” Javier said as they rode out.

“For all we know, he kept riding north and never looked back,” Arthur said acidicly.

“He wouldn’t leave, not like that,” Javier shot back.

“Well… wouldn’t be the first time.”

The wind picked up and started blowing a fresh layer of snow everywhere. It bit into their coats and Arthur felt that tiredness start to drag on his bones again. What he would not give to be back in bed… Charles’ body against the curve of his body and feeling the heat of being cuddle back up together.

They rode for a bit, Arthur following Javier’s lead as he supposedly followed tracks that must have been John’s. Arthur just tried to keep his head down so his hat could protect his face from the worst of the wind and snow. No need to get windburnt if he could help it and little John? So not worth it. Besides it was easier to just follow Javier and his horse then trying to keep track of John’s trackings. He was the ‘big dumb brute’ not the skilled trackers like Javier and them.

Actually… if it were Charles and him he might have actually volunteered to go after little John’s scrawny ass… god he was starved of the man lately. Almost felt ashamed.

“Hey,” Javier said, making Arthur snap his head up. “I see some smoke. Come on, let’s take a look.”

Squaring his shoulders, Arthur squinted through the white out before them, barely seeing the trail of smoke that Javier was speaking of.

“Let’s hope it ain’t more of the O’Driscoll’s boys,” Arthur grunted out.

They rode a bit more before Javier motioned for them to slow and stop. Arthur still had to squint to see it but he could make out a crude camp. Looked like little John had made up camp for the night. Smart when he needed to be, at least, bless his heart.

“Well…” Javier said, getting off his horse to poke around the camp. “... Seems somebody left… recently… and… that way.”

Javier pointed in the distance, Arthur still had to squint to make out even the first few tracks.

“Sure, well, come on then,” Arthur urged, shuddering bone deep as winter bit him deeper.

“There’s some tracks leading to the river,” Javier said, pointing. Now he could make them out, looking over the shape of horse tracks.

“Few hours ago, at most,” Arthur said, able to tell that much.

“See, they continue up that way.”

Arthur squinted ahead, but let Javier take the lead since he was the better tracker.

“You think it’s John?” Arthur asked as they rode across the river that was still managing to run merrily along despite the frigid temperatures. Then again, had it been frozen on the surface it would have been too dangerous to cross. And frozen through and through and their poor horses probably would have been skidding across the ice.

“You tell me. These are horse tracks for sure, but… could be anyone,” Javier mused as they picked up the pace to chase the fading tracks, hooves beating the fresh layer of powdery like snow. “Let’s just see where they lead.”

They started riding out, trying to outrace the dusting of snow that were threatening to erase the tracks. Even the weather seemed intent on killing them, along with every lawman for several states. And the O’Driscolls. And the Pinkertons. Not many people that did not want to kill them at present, but they sure as shit did not need the fucking weather ganging up on them too.

“So… you were there, Javier,” Arthur started as they rode. “What really happened on that boat?”

“We had the money, it seemed fine, then suddenly they were everywhere,” Javier called out over the wind.

“Bounty hunters?”

“No, Pinkertons. It was crazy. Raining bullets.”

Arthur mulled that over. What would Pinkertons care about a boat robbery… something seemed up. Then again, that whole boat job had seemed bad enough for him to weasel out of it, ending up on the other side of town when the first shots rang out that sent him running as fast as his husky ass could run.

What happened on that boat…

“Watch out for this crevice,” Javier called out.

Arthur quickly adjusted his horse, bringing it away from the crevice he had not seen until now because of the wind and snow assailing them still. Shit. Geology too now?

“Dutch killed a girl in a…. Bad way,” Javier continued when they had pulled away from the death fall. “But it was a bad situation.”

“That… that ain’t like him though,” Arthur frowned. Dutch was a killer, a thief, a con man, a robber and overall not a good man. But he had morals, he had a code to uphold, and as far as Arthur had known the man (most of his life at this point so he was pretty sure), Dutch did not kill women unless they were going for his throat. To kill a girl in a bad way? That… that was not Dutch.

What the hell happened on that fucking boat?

“They continue along the cliff wall here,” Javier said instead of commenting on that.

They took the curve, Arthu not liking how far his horse was sinking into the snow now. They needed to hurry up and find whomever was at the end of the tracks. And if it was little John? Arthur was going to beat that boy’s hide into leather.

“Davey got shot, Mac and John… both shot too. Sean, we don’t even know. I’m surprised we escaped at all. By the time you boys showed up from the other side of town, we were only just holding on,” Javier continued as they rode.

“Bad business alright,” Arthur muttered, feeling a sour taste develop at the back of his throat.

They rode for a time yet still, pushing ahead despite the wind coming at them full on now. When the snow started coming down harder and faster, Arthur felt the wind knocked from his lungs and could feel his horse struggling underneath of him.

“Damn snow’s coming in hard again,” Arthur grunted out.

“We’ll lose these tracks if we don’t move fast,” Javier called out.

They rode ahead, slipping through a narrow bit of ground and pushed through a whole mess of fresh powdery snow that had the horses huffing and puffing away soon enough. They were tired. Their riders were tired. The hellishly cold weather was chipping away at them bit by bit and trying its damndest to stop them and probably kill them. And if Arthur were a religious man, he would have sworn at this point that God himself was against them. Good thing he was not.

“Hey, look. Over there, you see that?”

Ahead in the snow, they could both make out a dark shape. Obviously not stone, not that dark, and Arthur swore that he could make out a bit of red and on a mountain of stone and snow? That meant it was something else. They urged their tired horses onwards until they close enough to see--

“John was riding that horse when we left Blackwater,” Javier grimaced at the very, very dead horse on the ground. Wolves, no doubt too. Dammit.

“Oh… that’s... “ Arthur grunted, feeling sick and dread hit him at once. Poor thing.

“Let’s see if he can hear us,” Javier said, pulling a pistol out, aiming it skyward at an angle and firing twice.

Barely had time to echo once or twice before Arthur picked up John’s raspy voice hollering for help not too far away.

“Come on… up there!”

Arthur sighed as he followed after Javier. John owed him a LOT after this shit show.

“I don’t think we can go much further on the horses. We’ll have to walk from here,” Javier said when they approached a very narrow bit of mountain pass.

A LOT.

“Grab that shotgun from your horse and let’s move. Down this way,” Javier said as Arthur reluctantly marched over to his horse to grab his shotgun.

They had to navigate a stretch of rather treacherous mountain, climbing and dropping down. The wind seemed very harsh so high up the mountain and Arthur was sure that he would find a few patches of cold burnt skin when he took off his coat next… if he ever made it off the mountain alive. And all the while listening to the wind scream something foul and listening to John’s panicked yelling, calling out to them feverishly.

They took a small break in a small passageway through the mountains, getting a small relief from the wind.

“How are you doing?” Javier said, shivering violently underneath his serape.

“I’m miserable,” Arthur muttered, rubbing his gloves fruitlessly over his arms in a futile attempt to warm up. At least moving felt slightly better. “Been a tough few days.”

“I know... “ Javier muttered back, taking out a bottle of something and taking a very hearty swig. After swallowing perhaps half the damn thing, he capped it and tossed it Arthur’s way. “Here… take a drink of this.”

“Thanks,” Arthur said with a bob of his head, taking the cork out with his teeth and just chugging whatever it was. It was alcohol. Bourbon. Burned in a way that normally Arthur would have been sick at or perhaps turned his nose up at, but with how fucking cold he was, it burned so good. And when the alcohol hit his stomach it let a fire to gave him a bit of strength to forge ahead.

“I’m not designed for this snow…” Javier muttered as Arthur finished the bottle and then simply tossed it.

“Yeah… me neither…” Arthur muttered.

“We’ll get you back to camp,” Javier sighed deeply before he walked out, Arthur trailing reluctantly behind him.

* * *

“Come here, you giant pain in my ass,” Arthur grunted as he pulled John’s half limp body down from Javier’s horse. Weak hands scrambled to grab at something, settling for digging into Arthur’s frozen coat as best they could as he carefully eased the man off the horse and then carefully onto the ground.

Arthur wanted to be mad at the man for the shit that they had just endured for him. Climbing all over that mountain for the man, and then fighting off the wolves that very much wanted to finish mauling the man. But with frozen blood on the man’s face and his eyes clouded with pain, it was really hard to be mad at the man that deep down… he still thought of as a little brother. Damned soft heart of his.

Ah hell… he could mad later.

“You’re alive! Oh you’re alive!” Abigail yelled as she rushed out to meet them.

Since he was already pretty much holding the man up, Arthur heaved most of the man’s half dead weight into the main building. John held on as tight as his hands could, as tight as his pained and injured and half frozen and half starved mind could manage. Some of that frozen blood got on Arthur’s coat but… he could always wash it or get a new coat.

“Come on, let’s get your warm,” Abigail said as Arthur awkwardly heaved the man along. “Oh thank you Arthur! Thank you Javier!”

Arthur just grunted.

“This is a new low, even for your standards,” Abigail scolded John, lowering her head to mutter at him.

Arthur and a helping hand from Bill, got John into a bed so that someone that was good with a needle and thread could get to work on pulling John’s mauled face back together and put his leg back into one piece. And figuring that he had done more than enough for one day, Arthur shuffled out, meeting Hosea and Strauss and Javier outside.

“Thank you, Arthur. Thank you,” Hosea said.

“You got any other lost brats that need saving?” Arthur grunted out.

“Not today,” Hosea chuckled roughly.

Javier left to get warm. Arthur would join him in a second because he was sure that now was as good as any to get some sleep and he needed it something fierce but also that meant curling up with Charles again. But Hosea was right there and Arthur needed to know if anyone was getting anything done.

“Have you and Dutch talked about how we’re gonna get out of this?” Arthur asked the man, shuffling close as they all shivered.

“I was just discussing with Herr Strauss,” Hosea started with a shiver, moving closer to Arthur’s much, mucher larger frame and Strauss joining them wisely. “When the weather breaks, I suppose we’ll have to keep heading east.

“East?! Into all that…” Arthur could barely make himself say the words. “... that civilization?”

“I know,” Hosea tiredly sighed. “But the west is where our problems are worse.”

Arthur grunted. Hosea was right, as he usually was, but dammit. Arthur wanted to go back to barely touched wild lands. Miles upon miles of untamed wilds where he could be left the hell alone except the rare soul. But back to where people were? All the horse shit that came with them? Goddammit... 

“Come on, Herr Strauss. Let’s get warm,” Hosea tiredly sighed.

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan,” Strauss managed before the two quickly absconded to anywhere warm and free of as much wind as possible.

That just left Arthur to shuffle back to where he was laying his head for the night, grateful to find Lenny, Javier and Charles already there and a fire already going and a thin amount of warmth in the air.

“Gents,” Arthur managed.

“Javier was just telling us what happened, you make it out okay?” Charles said, patting the space next to him on the bunk. Arthur gratefully sank into the space and then leaned into Charles, feeling himself relax from his tense head to his tense and frozen toes.

“Yeah… tired… cold…” Arthur muttered, already feeling his eyelids get heavy.

“‘M glad,” Charles mumbled.

“I don’t know about you, Arthur, but I’d hold this over John’s head for a good long time. He’s earned it this time,” Lenny muttered as he added a few more wood chips to the fire.

“Trust me, I will. Lil bastard owes me and Javier big time for this,” Arthur grumbled. “He’s not gonna be allowed to forget it anytime soon.”

“He’s not. But you two should get some sleep,” Charles pointed out, making Arthur realize that his eyes had slid shut. “You two did good today.”

“You heard the man. Get up there,” Lenny chuckled, nudging Javier that was slumping further and further as the little building warmed just a little more and more.

“Yeah, yeah,” Javier yawned but already climbing up onto the top bunk.

Arthur followed Charles’ tugging hands and let himself get pulled into bed. Even the flattened straw mattress felt so comfy after the day he had had. Lenny puffed away at a cigarette for a few moments before snuffing it and joining Javier in the top bunk. As soon as he was out of eyesight, Arthur flipped around to face Charles. The man’s achingly handsome face melted at the sight of him.

“Glad you're okay.”

He fell asleep to the familiar feeling of Charles’ soft and full lips against his face, gingerly peppering little kisses to skin that was not too red and sore from the wind and cold. And in Arthur’s honest and humble opinion? The best damn way to fall sleep.


	3. Colter pt3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mild language, mentioned injuries, mentioned animal death, brief charles/arthur
> 
> Camp's gotta eat, and Arthur and Charles could use the moment alone

“We’re gonna starve to death up here.”

Arthur was trying to sketch in his notebook. 

Despite the hellish temperatures, there were some pretty gorgeous scenery to be seen. And chances were, Arthur sure was hell was not going to trek back up the mountain to see it again, so he was sketching it to preserve it now. He had already sketched out a rough map of Colter, some of the falling apart buildings. A bored sketch of a sad Sadie when she had been outside so she could weep with only a kind shoulder of Mary Beth to keep her company. A sketch of Charles, Javier and Lenny as they sat in that little building. A sketch of Charles because Arthur was always trying to get the man’s features just right and could never seem to get those handsome looks down.

But hearing Pearson speak up, Arthur knew what was about to go down and felt his mediocre mood sour considerably.

“What do you want me to do, Mr. Pearson?” Dutch sighed heavily.

“... Send Arthur and Charles! Sending those two out is guaranteed to get something. And those two have been in bad moods, especially Arthur. They always get real chipper when you send them out, they could use for perking up.”

“... Good idea. Arthur? Arthur!”

Grunting, Arthur closed his notebook and stood from where he had been crouched in the shelter of a stump and stalked over to where Pearson had stationed himself. A small building with a firepit that must have been the kitchen for the mining town before it curled up and died underneath winter’s relentless assault. 

“Help Mr. Pearson, will you son?” Dutch said before walking off, likely to find Charles.

“Yeah, yeah…” Arthur muttered.

“Now… we have a few cans of food and a rabbit,” Mr. Pearson said as Arthur tried to quickly warm himself by the firepit. Might as well start semi warm for whatever horseshit he was about to have to do. “For what, ten, twelve people? When I was in the navy--”

“I do not wish to hear about what you got up to in the Navy, Mr. Pearson,” Arthur quickly said before the man could go off the deep end trying to tell tales. Arthur did not feel like listening to the man tell his obviously exaggerated tales of when he was in the navy when it was this fucking cold and he was already this fucking misrable.

“We were stranded at sea,” Mr. Pearson started regardless. “For fifty days--”

“And you unfortunately survived,” Arthur cut in again, rolling his eyes so hard it almost hurt.

“When we ran away from Blackwater,” Mr. Pearson said, course correcting, trying to keep Arthur from stomping off. Honestly the only thing that was truly keeping him from stomping off was the possibility of hunting, alone, with Charles. But Charles had yet to show up and Arthur was losing patience. “I wasn’t able to get supplies in.”

“Well when government agents are hunting you down,” Arthur said with a snap, getting frustrated. “Sometimes shopping trips need to be cut short. We’ll survive, we always have. And if needs be, we can eat you, you’re the biggest man here.”

“I sent Lenny and Bill hunting and they found nothing,” Mr. Pearson said, ignoring Arthur’s remark.

Charles stepped up to the house and Arthur felt his mood soften and lighten up. Okay, he was up for hunting. But he still had to give Pearson shit, the man earned it for not grabbing SOMETHING from Blackwater before they had to run. Also because it was Pearson. Pearson always deserved to get his hide tanned a bit.

“Well, Lenny’s more into booking learning than hunting,” Arthur hummed. “And Bill’s a fool. Unless the mountains are game that wanna read, ain’t no wonder they found nothing.”

“Well it’s a good thing we’re here. We’ll go find something. Come on, Arthur,” Charles said.

Arthur bobbed his head and started after Charles as he turned to grab Tima and Arthur’s borrowed horse (which he was currently only using until they got off the mountain and then giving back to Sadie because it was only right).

“Wait a second, hold on,” Mr. Pearson said, shuffling along quickly and poking around his supplies. He found it and tossed to Arthur. “Here, you’re gonna need something to eat out there.”

Arthur turned the can until he could read the faded label.

“Assorted, salted offal,” He read off and then felt himself turn green. “Starving would be preferable.”

“Come on, let’s go,” Charles said as Arthur reluctantly put the can in his bag. It was as he was looking up that he caught sight of Charles’ bandaged hand. 

When they went out hunting well… it was mostly quality time together and then Charles quickly tracking down a deer or two or something of the same size and shooting it with his bow or Arthur’s varmint rifle. Arthur would then skin it, gut it, and throw it on his horse and they would say that they hunted together. Arthur was… to say that he was a piss poor hunter would be a kindness of the state of his lack of skills. He was reliant on Charles and his hand…

“You can’t go hunting, look at your hand,” Arthur deflated.

“I can’t stay here listening to you two,” Charles shrugged. “Look if there’s game in those hills, I’ll find it. And you can kill it.”

“You need to rest, Charles,” Arthur sighed.

“You think this is rest? Come along.”

Feeling like he had crossed a line, Arthur just flattened his lips and bobbed his head once before meekly following after the man.

“Here, take this,” Charles said, unslinging his bow and handing it to Arthur. “I can’t use it and you’ll have to.

“Okay,” Arthur said, wary of stepping further on Charles’ nerves further. He had a comment about his lack of skill but kept his lips shut.

“Can’t use a gun. You’ll scare off any game for miles around. And your varmint rifle got left in Blackwater. You’re gonna have to learn. And you’re never too old to learn, I imagine,” Charles said as they got on their horses and started out. “Come on, this way.”

* * *

They rode out a bit. Arthur was still wary of annoying the man further so conversation was light at best. Idle things. Arthur asked about Charles’ hand as gently as he could. Thankfully it was mostly healed but Charles was wary of upsetting the healing wound any further and thus, Arthur was the one doing the hunting. Little tidbits about the boat incident that Arthur was slowly piecing together. Charles was worried about the safety of the group but especially the mental health of everyone.

“... ‘m sorry about before,” Arthur piped up over the sound of the wind as it howled around them.

“What about?” Charles asked back.

“Fretting over you, I know you hate it but I worry,” Arthur muttered as low as the winds would let him.

“Oh that? No, I’m sorry for snapping,” Charles sighed back, slowing his horse so that they were riding side by side. “Been a rough few days. Wasn’t right for me to snap at you like that.”

“No, I get it… you are okay, right?”

“Yeah. Just making sure this hand heals right.”

Arthur let out a relieved sigh.

“That’s good. I worry about you, darlin’.”

“Ain’t you sweet?” Charles grinned back and making Arthur’s heart skip a beat. “But you still have to use the bow. I ain’t messing up my hand anymore.”

Charles did the tracking for the most part, giving Arthur pointers along the way that he took careful note to remember. When Charles found some tracks, they got off their horses to check them out further. Charles squatting down in the snow to look at the tracks that had punched through the thick snow.

“Deer have been through here recently… probably close by.”

“Alright,” Arthur said, pulling the bow off his shoulder.

“They go through those trees…” Charles hummed before pointing through the trees, towards the river. Arthur could make out two deer by the water’s edge. “There.”

“Alright… wish me luck, sugar.”

“Got one better.”

Arthur turned as Charles cupped his jaw and brought him forward. Their lips pressed together, warm and soft and gentle and sweet. Just the way that Charles always kissed him and always melted him. And he melted against the perfect man’s perfect lips, eyes closing as the warmth washed over him. And he became of how aware that they had not kissed proper for some time now and he _ached_ for this gentle touch. This gentleness that he craved like air after drowning.

And then Charles pulled away and Arthur let out a low whine from the loss of contact.

“Shoot these deer and there’s more where that came from, partner,” Charles grinned cheekily.

“You’re a bad man, Mr. Smith,” Arthur grunted back before grinning. “Get them perfect lips of yours ready. Those deer are mine.”

* * *

“It’s basically the chopped up bits that we usually gut and leave out for the other animals,” Arthur said as Charles and him carried the two deers into the building that Mr. Pearson worked. “Plus salt for what I’m assuming to be some sort of flavor.”

“That’s disgusting,” Charles winced.

“Hence, why starving would be preferable,” Arthur chuckled.

“Well, well, well,” Pearson said as they entered. Uncle sat by the fire and looked like he was drinking something from Pearson’s stash. Rat bastard of a man.

“What a surprise, finding the camp rat loitering around in the kitchen,” Arthur sneered as he dropped the deer on the ground for Pearson to take care of.

“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” Uncle mock pouted, “I feel like we haven’t spoke in days.”

“I do my utmost to avoid you,” Arthur said flatly, choosing to hover near the firepit to warm himself up somewhat. The kisses from Charles had warmed his soul right up, but his body was still in a frigid environment trying to kill them with cold and needed the warmth of the fire. Maybe when they got out of here, Charles and him and could warm each other up the old fashioned way… been a hot minute...

“Oh he loves me really,” Uncle said to Charles, as though Arthur was joking and Uncle was trying to get Charles in on it. Based on how Charles leveled a hard look at the man, he was not having it. “It’s his sad way of showing affection.”

“No it isn’t. Now shoot, get lost,” Arthur grunted.

“Well, see you gents later,” Uncle muttered, catching on that Arthur was not in the mood for his usual horse shit. He left with the bottle, Arthur noted but kept to himself. Rat bastard of a man.

“See you gents got on just fine,” Pearson noted as he looked the deer over.

“Charles is a wonder,” Arthur said, feeling himself grin. He saw Charles grin too, out of the corner of his eyes and felt his ear burn a little bit.

* * *

That night the group had warm stew with deer in it. Did not taste too great, no seasoning or spice in it after all, but it was warm and they got to finally feel some ounce of fullness after a lot of lean days. People would sleep a hell of a lot better than they had in a long time, especially knowing that Pearson would have a warm dinner for the next day too. Things were looking up, even if just a little bit.

“You gents are a wonder, let me tell you,” Lenny groaned appreciatively when they had settled down for the night, at ease with some warmth and substance in them and very ready for some actual sleep. “Sometimes I wonder where the hell we would be without you.”

“You’d get along just fine, kid,” Arthur hummed as he smoked. “Dutch and them would have come up with a plan.”

“Yeah, but you two seem to always be the one doing the plans. Or saving us when shit goes south,” Javier chuckled.

“Now what have I said about trying to make me blush?” Arthur drawled out all serious and then grinning when Lenny and Javier chuckled.

They talked a bit more before they all tired and out climbed into bed. Javier climbed up, quipping about something that had Lenny laughing himself until he coughed. When they were out of sight, Arthur flipped around to face Charles, glad to see the man still up. He wriggled closer, until he could feel Charles’ warmth breath on his face. Made the man smile that breathtaking smile that made Arthur weak in the knees.

“Nice shootin’,” Charles murmured.

“Got a good teacher,” Arthur rumbled back.

“Tell you want, I’ll teach you some more when we get off this damned mountain.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Charles sealed the promise with a kiss and Arthur truly slept well that night.


	4. Colter pt4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Brief Charles/Arthur, violence, mentioned blood and death
> 
> I'd never doubt you Dutch, unless... of course...

Arthur knew that they could not put off this insane idea to rob a train like they were thinking. Why now, when half of them were still recovering from being half frozen, half starved and half dead? Why now, when John was out of commission with his face still tore up and the stitches still new? Why now at all? Arthur did not want to doubt Dutch but… something was going on with him and Arthur was not liking how many lives were at risk because of it. But if he sat out, who knew what fresh hell would come up?

“I signed up with you boys, because I thought you liked action,” Micah whined as Arthur forced himself into the little building that Lenny, Micah and Bill were hunkered in to warm up. He had been out and sketching for a bit before deciding that he liked his fingers not frozen stiff and unfortunately picked the closest building and it unfortunately had both Bill and Micah in it. “A couple days on the lam and y’all have turned yella. Except, of course--”

Arthur smacked Micah’s hat off his head.

“Shut up, Micah,” Lenny snapped before inhaling from his cigarette.

“I ain’t never seen so many long faces,” Micah continued when he got his hat on his head.

Javier forced the door open and then quickly shut it. Arthur tipped his hat to the man as he shuffled in, shivering violently.

“I guess,” Bill started, inhaling from his own cigarette,” I guess folks miss them… that fell.”

Strange to hear some sense from Billl fucking Williamson. Maybe the cold had knocked some sense back into him? Or at all. Arthur found it very hard to believe that the asshole had any to begin with.

“Well, when I fall,” Micah started and they all collectively groaned silently. “I don’t want no fuss.”

“When you fall, there’ll be a party,” Lenny grinned.

They all fucking laughed at that, would have been howling had the wind not taken the bottom half of their lungs. Man earned it, his foul personality, temperament and way of dealing with-- that was too kind. His bigoted, racist, sexist attitude had rubbed one too many hides raw and with Dutch crying up a storm about ‘getting along’ not many could do anything. So the man earned a few pokes with a red hot iron.

“A party,” Bill wheezed softly, “Probably.”

“That funny?” Micah asked, getting to his feet and walking over to Bill. “Huh?”

“Sure,” Bill grinned right up at Micah from his seat.

Micah’s fist flew before they could react. And as much as Arthur, Lenny and Javier would have loved to see the camps two biggest assholes break each other’s jaws, all three got in the way of Bill lunging at the man.

“Maybe, I don’t feel like being laughed at by the likes of you three!” Micah said, notably from a safe distance away from Bill like the lily livered coward that he was.

Bill pulled at the hold that Lenny and Arthur had on his arms, howling up a storm.

“Stop it!” Dutch yelled as he forced the door open, liking having heard only the tail end of the fight. “Now! You fools punching each other, when Colm O’Driscoll’s needing punching, hard.”

Javier tried to get Dutch to shuffle in and shut the door, only for Dutch to snap an arm out and stop the door. Arthur felt a groan make it up to his throat before dying. Dutch was here with a plan and trying to make them focus on their scolding. Bill and Micah always got him pulled in on them, bastards.

“You wanna sit around waiting for him to come find us? All of you, we got work to do,” Dutch said as Arthur knowingly stepped outside, mourning the thin warmth that they had in the building. “Come on.”

“Are you sure about this, Dutch?” Arthur asked as everyone miserably started shuffling outside.

“Yes.”

“Folks been through a lot recently,” Arthur tried again. He knew that Dutch had sense about him, a good solid head on his shoulders. “We hardly back on our feet yet.”

“And the last thing we need is to get bushwhacked by Colm O’Driscoll,” Dutch added on with a tone that suggested, neigh, demanded that he not be argued with. “Come on.”

“I know you hate him, Dutch,” Arthur said as they started towards their horses.

“He’s here for us.”

“I doubt that.”

“No, you’re just doubting me,” Dutch said, working that one angle that he knew he always had Arthur on.

“I would never doubt you, Dutch!” Arthur spat out. “You… you always said that revenge is a luxury we can’t afford.”

“This is the right call, Arthur.”

Arthur bit his tongue and felt like a child unable to speak up to his father. Not that Arthur ever felt the need to speak up against Dutch. Dutch was always so clever, so smart, he knew what to do and always had a plan. Only recently did he start becoming risky. Maybe it was just stress getting to him like it was getting to all of them. For now, Arthur would say nothing, but later maybe he could ask Hosea to help him figure out what had happened to Dutch to start making him make such basic mistakes.

“Take this,” Dutch said, taking a repeater and handing it off to Arthur, who instinctively took it and started to examine it to get familiar. Dutch went over to his horse and picked up a length of rope and took it back over to Arthur. “And this is about more than revenge for business long ago. They were talking about trains and detonators. Here.”

“Colm always had good information,” Dutch continued as Arthur briefly tested the strength and spring of the rope before adding it to his belt. “Come on.”

“And you think now is the right time to hit a train?” Arthur asked as they got on their horses, the rest of the group waiting on them now.

“Now you might fancy living on deer piss and rabbit shit,” Dutch snapped unkind, “I’m getting too old for that life… Mr. Matthews, Mr. Smith, Mr. Pearson would you please look after the place, there are O’Driscolls about.”

Dutch hollered at his horse and took off. The rest started off after him. But Arthur lingered for just a moment, catching Charles lingering outside to see them off. Arthur nodded at him and Charles nodded back.

“Be kind to yourself, Charles,” Arthur said.

“Same goes to you,” Charles said.

And then Arthur reluctantly took off on a fool’s errand.

* * *

Gun fights were always sort of… peaceful in a way for Arthur. He had had a gun in his hands for years at this point. And fired his fair share of bullets. Being in the life that he was in, you spent a good number of hours in gun fights and had to find some manner of peace in them. The first gun fight he was in, he had spent hours shaking like a leaf. Now?

His repeater went off and took the gun out of another O’Driscoll boy. Bill’s gun went off and that boy went down with another hole in his head.

Now he could think about wanting to crawl back into bed with Charles while taking out O’Driscoll boys and still not having to worry a lick about being shot.

Somewhere in the distance he heard Micah yelling nonsense, probably blowing his own whistle about his lackluster shooting. Somewhere else he was sure that Lenny and Javier were picking off stragglers and such, keeping O’Driscoll boys from running back to their boss with their tails between their legs. Dutch was probably out shooting the odd boys with his pistols, getting up close and personal, letting off some steam. Bodies were starting to spot the snow with dark hues, blood and darkened, worn out clothing and thin bodies.

Arthur shot a man that came riding out of the woods on a horse, sent the beast running as its rider slumped dead to the ground.

“Bastards,” Arthur grumbled as he reloaded.

The cold was biting deep into him. He would have given anything to be back in bed with Charles, semi-warm and feeling those thick lips press sugary sweet kisses to his face and him murmuring out sweet nothings to the man that deserved it all. What he would have given to have Charles all to himself and to love the man proper.

A man tried to bullrush Arthur, only to get the butt of his repeated to the forehead, stunning him, making him reel back. Gave Arthur ample time to casually right the repeater, aim it, and then blow his brains out. Arthur reloaded and then started peppering bullets among a small group that was trying to get together to make any plans. Javier and Lenny finished them off.

There were only a few more after that and then the camp was dead silent.

Dutch barked out a few orders to strip everything and look for the detonators and plans. Arthur made sure to pick the pockets of every corpse that he came across, trying to find loose change but also look for anything that he could take back to camp for Charles for his hand. Actually he was mostly looking for something that he could take back to Charles for his hand. Thankfully he found a few bottles of health cures, but also a few cans of food that he could take back to Mr. Pearson to help feed folks.

And… dynamite.

“Here… this looks good…” Arthur said as Bill came over. “What do you think, Bill?”

“Looks fine,” Bill said as he looked over the dynamite sticks that Arthur handed him. Lifted it up to his nose and took a deep inhale in. “Smells good.”

Arthur decided to not ask, just lifted up the rest and handed it over to the man. “Come on.”

“Did we get everything?” Dutch asked from his horse.

“Think so, boss,” Micah said as he handed a roll of paper to him. “Found this on one of them.”

“Thank you.”

“This is perfect,” Bill said as he loaded the dynamite to his big horse.

“Oh yeah, interesting. This is something about that train they was gonna rob,” Dutch said as he read the paper. “A Mr. Leviticus Cornwall… Mount back up, let’s keep moving.”

There were a few words of encouragement as they mounted back and started riding back to their camp. There was a boost in spirits after that, a score finally going off without a fuss. After how bad the boat went, the small victory felt like breath after almost drowning.

“Hey, you see that feller? Wasn’t he at the camp with Colm?”

* * *

“There he is.”

Arthur groaned deeply as he sank into bed next to Charles. The man pulled him close, immediately pressed a kiss to his nose.

“Sorry ‘bout showing up late,” Arthur rumbled, melting as Charles started kissing along his face. “Was chasing down an O’Driscoll boy. Got him tied up in a different building now. Boy sure could ride his horse, swore he tried to make a mad dash across the country before I finally got a rope around him.”

“He talking?”

“Not yet. But we’ll starve the truth out of him yet. He’ll talk.”

Charles hushed him with a kiss.

“Also found…” Arthur managed between kisses. “A couple of medicines out there… see if anything works for your hand…”

“Ain’t you just the sweetest,” Charles murmured against his lips before kissing him again.

“With how much sugar you're pouring on me?” Arthur sighed happily.

Arthur kissed Charles back just as sweetly as he was getting kissed, feeling his heart warm and feeling himself forget, for just a moment, about some of the misery around him. About the cold still making the skin of his toes feel raw and open. About the hunger that was still gnawing away at the edges of his belly. About the exhaustion that was making it hard to keep his eyes open.

There was just the sweet kisses of his man in this quiet little building in this little hay bed.


	5. Colter pt5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mentioned Arthur/Charles, language, mentioned violence
> 
> Time to get out of Colter

It was finally warming up.

It was still colder than a witch's tit in a brass bra, and they were still shivering the worst at night while feeling the sharp bite of snow deep inside of their flesh despite being layered up as much as possible. And most of them still had to huddle next to someone at night to keep the cold from keeping them up and burning them out.

But it was finally, finally, warming up. The worst of the ice was slowly, but surely, melting a bit away. Arthur could hear the drips of the worst of the icicles by the sides of the buildings and over the windows. He watched Jack pack up some wet snow and make a hard ball of snow and throw it at Micah, who cursed up a storm, but Arthur just picked up another snowball and threw it and took all the blame with a smug smile on his face. Hunting was also easier, some animals coming out to look for food, so little worry for hungry bellies anymore.

But... with the warming weather... regardless if they were getting back on their feet and could finally start putting their lives and gang back together... that damned train robbery was bound to come up.

And come up it did.

* * *

"I thought you was reading him his last rites," Arthur drawled when he went in to check on John, only to find the never sober Swanson putting away his 'book' with his secret stash inside. John seemed good and drugged up, visible eye hazed over and uselessly moving his arms and hands about. "Now I see you're introducing him to your other passion."

"I'll mind you to show me some respect, Mr. Morgan," Swanson seethed, turning to stand to face Arthur. Not really intimidating, considering that Arthur had a few inches on the man and the man was obviously annoyed at being mostly sober.

"Mind away, Reverend," Arthur smirked, making Swanson burn red and then stomp off. Arthur just smirked at the man's back before turning to look down at John, who was sluggishly looking at him.

"You still here, then?"

"... I owe you," John said, ignoring the bite in Arthur's words.

"And you'll pay me..." Arthur hummed, sitting down to squint at John's face. It was still red and swollen around the lesser of the cuts on the man's face, and a cloth hid the worst and the still fresh stitches. He looked like shit. "But for the moment, just rest."

John nodded numbly, visible eye dropping. Probably would not remember the conversation when he was fully conscious again, but Arthur figured he could give the man a gentle reminder. Or Javier could. John owed them both for saving his ass, even if they found it a bit chewed up when they did. And he would pay in kind. But right now they needed him to rest up. Could not collect the debt from a dead man, or one was too sick to do nothing.

"Arthur!"

Arthur turned to see Dutch quickly shuffled inside, holding the plans in his hand.

"I think it's time for the train," Dutch said.

"Want me to come?" John asked. Arthur almost wanted to laugh at the notion of John moving anytime soon.

"Of course I do, but... look at you," Dutch said, gesturing to John's face.

"I was always ugly, Dutch," John joked dryly and without humor. "It's just a scratch."

"Lie still, son," Dutch quickly scolded when John made a move to sit up. It took Dutch pushing on his shoulder and Arthur pushing against his stomach to finally get him to lay down, just in time for Abigail and little Jack to quickly open the door to shuffle inside.

"Hello, Abigail," Dutch said as Arthur briskly yanked the blanket further up John's body to make him stay laid down.

"Dutch," Abigail said, holding Jack's hand as they shuffled in.

"Jackie," Dutch said in greeting, nodding his head towards the young boy.

"The boy wanted to see you, John," Abigail said, letting go of Jack's hands and the boy nervously wringing his hands with the attention now on him.

"He's seen me now..." John tiredly sighed, turning his head (and Arthur noted the the worst side in terms of injuries) away from the young boy as he hesitantly stepped forward. "Or what's left of me. What about you?"

"Guess I was hoping to see a corpse," Abigail coldly said, staring down her nose at the man.

"Bide your time," John scoffed, "You'll see plenty of them."

"You're a rotten man, John Marston," Abigail snapped.

"He is an idiot, Abigail," Dutch said, intervening before the two started another screaming match when no one needed it. Abigail huffed and turned heel, placing a hand on Jack's shoulder and steering the young boy outside. "And we all know it."

When the door closed, Dutch turned back to Arthur and he muffled a groan.

"Now, railway men," Dutch said, stepping outside and Arthur seeing that most everyone was already ready or almost ready to go. "Bill, now you ride away and set the charge at the water tower, just before the tunnel."

"Ain't a problem."

"Why are we doing this?" Hosea said, interrupting them all by being the voice of reason. Arthur really hoped that he could work that silver tongue and get Dutch to see reason. "Weather's breaking, we could leave. I-I thought we was lying low."

Regardless of his pointing out logic and reason, Bill started riding out. Arthur strayed, picking at his horse's saddle to see if Hosea could convince Dutch to leave this idiot plan behind. Come on, old man, work that silver tongue that you like to brag about...

"What do you want from me, Hosea?" Dutch sighed.

"I just don't want any more folks to die, Dutch," Hosea countered.

"We're living, Hosea, we're living. Look at me, we're living... even you," Dutch shot right back. "But we need money, everything we have's in Blackwater. You fancy heading back there?"

"No," Hosea huffed out.

Fuck. Arthur knew that tone anywhere. The 'he's being a stubborn mule and I'm not beating my head against a brickwall anymore' tone that Hosea used when dealing with Dutch in his most stubborn of moods. Grunting, Arthur really put effort into getting his horse ready. Dammit it all to hell...

"Listen, Dutch, I ain't trying to undermine you, I just want to stick to the plan. Which was to lie low, then head back out west."

Arthur turned to watch his fathers bicker like the old couple that they were. Maybe Hosea was going 'hurt' route...

"Now, suddenly, we're about to rob a train?"

"What choice have we got?"

"Leviticus Cornwall's no joke, Dutch, he's..."

"Who is Leviticus Cornwall?" Arthur butted in. Maybe if he spoke up, Hosea could take two seconds and formulate another argument, build up steam.

"He's a big railway magnate, sugar dealer, oil man," Hosea rattled off tiredly.

"Well how good for him," Dutch drawled out sarcastically, rolling his eyes so hard Arthur wondered if they would roll out. "Sounds like he has more than enough to share."

"Dutch!" Hosea hissed out.

"Gentlemen, it is time to make something of ourselves," Dutch called out to the group as they got their horses ready, brushing past Hosea. Arthur did not miss the hurt look on the man's face and knew that there would be a cutting discussion later between them.   
Get your horses ready, we have a train to rob!"

As Dutch stormed off, Arthur stepped closer to Hosea as he shook his head and looked down at the ground with a soured expression on his face.

"I'll look after him, bring him back in one piece," He mumbled.

"Please do," Hosea grumbled back, letting Arthur quickly grab his horse.

"Get your horses read, we have a train to rob!"

* * *

They had robbed trains before, of course. Not often, since trains could have a good chunk of armed and trained people aboard and even their highly skilled group could struggle with ten or more highly trained, highly paid and highly armed guards. But they had robbed trains before.

Arthur was rather pessimistic on this one since they were all still recovering from being half dead from their hurried trek through the frozen hell of that mountain.

Even more so, when after the dynamite failed, it had managed to get worse and worse until it was just him and Lenny.

Lenny was a good man, plenty book smart too and not a lot of men could say that, decent shot and had a damned good bout of determination in him that Arthur rarely saw. All in all, someone that Arthur could depend on in a fight (and would gladly take over Micah or Bull or Uncle). But just him and Lenny against a train?

"Fuck," Arthur groaned as he ducked behind some cabinets inside of a cabin, reloading feverishly as bullets zipped by him.

"You okay?" Lenny asked as he ducked out and took a shot. Took a shooter out.

"Yeah, just cursin' our shit luck lately," Arthur said back.

"I hear you on that," Lenny shouted back, ducking out to take another shot. Missed, but it startled a man long enough for Arthur to lean out and take a shot and take the shooter out. "Come on! We gotta stop this train!"

Arthur grumbled but followed Lenny's sound advice and rushed forward to continue the assault to take the train. They were this far already, and Arthur sure as shit was not going to die on some god forsake train on some half assed attempt to grab some quick cash. Not to mention, there was a breath taking gentlemen waiting for him to come back and he sure as shit was not going to disappoint Charles by getting his dumb ass shot.

"We're almost at the front, we can do this!"

"We sure can, Lenny!" Arthur yelled. Fake it until you make it, he guessed.

* * *

Arthur was never more happy to pack up a camp then he was when they were packing the wagons after they had finished robbing the train.

He happily helped pack up what meager belongs that they had back into the wagons. Anything to get off this god forsaken mountain. Out of this god forsaken cold. And hopefully away from all that god forsaken civilization and back to the untamed wilds that Arthur greatly preferred. Not that they would, because civilization usually meant money, which Dutch seemed to be throwing all caution to the wind for, but Arthur could dream.

"Thank you, Arthur," Mary-Beth shivered as he helped heave one of Miss Grimshaw's chests into the wagons that the women were piling into.

"Not a problem," Arthur said.

"I can't wait to get off this mountain," Mary-Beth shivered, gratefully taking Arthur's offered hand to climb into the wagon.

"Me neither."

When everyone was all piled into their wagons for the journey, Dutch called them to move on and they gratefully left the husk of the mining town behind, hopeful for warm weather that being off the mountain promised and the hopeful new chapter their lives after the disaster in Blackwater.

Arthur took the reins of the last wagon in the train, taking up the rear. He threw a smirk Charles way when the man climbed up into his wagon, already feeling his improving mood skyrocket further.

Time to get out of Colter.


	6. Horseshoe Overlook pt1-(nsfw)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Charles Smith/Arthur Morgan, mlm fluff, very briefly mentioned homophobia and then mentioned violence against said homophobia
> 
> NSFW: Charles/Arthur, mlm smut, trans Arthur Morgan, trans Charles Smith, oral sex

“Alright you two, coast is clear.”

Now… their camp… just about everyone knew about the two of them. No one really gave a shit except Bill and Micah. But those two were just terrible human beings overall, but they also had their teeth knocked in and their lights knocked out enough times to know to keep their goddamn worthless shit ‘opinions’ to themselves. 

But, regardless, neither Arthur or Charles really liked to be lovey dovey in front of other people. Preferred to do that stuff out of the public eye. Out of as many eyes as possible really.

So after they got the wheel on the wagon and the other wagons had gotten a good distance away and it was just Arthur, Charles, Hosea and the wild around them, Charles shimmed up from the end of the wagon to squeeze in behind Arthur. Chuckling, Arthur grinned as Charles wrapped his arms around Arthur’s neck from behind and hugged him close, kissing the back of his neck through the loose strands of his hair.

Hosea just chuckled, returning to his dish and whatever he was grinding inside of it.

“So, you know the camp?” Arthur smiled, mood improved quite a bit.

“A little, I’ve been through a couple of times,” Hosea said as they ushered the wagon along. “There’s a livestock town not far from here, called Valentine. Cowboys, outlaws, working girls. Our kind of place-- er, well most of our kind of place.”

“O’Driscolls?” Arthur asked.

“Probably them too.”

“Pinkertons?”

“Let’s hope not,” Hosea grumbled out.

“And this place we’re going… wait, what’s it called again?” It was hard to think when Charles was kissing him behind his ears.

“Horseshoe Overlook.”

“It’s a good place to lie low?”

“It’ll do for now. But how low do you think Dutch is really going to lie?” Hosea sighed out. Arthur listened patiently, knowing the man needed to vent. And after the past few weeks that they had had, the man needed a kind ear. “It’s just… you know, maybe it’s me who’s changed, not him, but… we kept telling him that ferry job didn’t feel right. You and me had a real lead in Blackwater that could’ve worked out.”

“Maybe,” Arthur hummed.

“It just… isn’t like Dutch to lose his head like that,” Hosea grumbled.

“Things go wrong sometimes. People die. It’s the way it is, always been,” Arthur offered, hoping to sooth the man. “Me, you, Dutch. We’ve all been in this line of work a long time, and we’re still here, so… I figured that we must’ve got it right a hell of a lot more than we got it wrong.”

Hosea hummed, looking thoughtful. Which was better than morose, so Arthur chalked it up as a win and went back to keeping the wagon along. Charles left his sensitive ears alone and simply leaned against Arthur’s back, content to just be there close to him. A comfortable sense of quiet fell over them as they kept along.

At one point, Arthur looked over to see Hosea grinding something in a little bowl still.

“What are you working on there anyway?”

“Just some yarrow and ginseng, good for the health. Better than that stuff you buy in the store,” Hosea said before pausing and then handing over the dish. “Here, you can have all this. I’m at the point where I can do it with my eyes closed.”

“Okay… thank you.”

They slipped into quite for a time again. They made idle chatter but mostly just listened to the landscape around them.

“There you are, brother.”

Arthur nearly jumped at the sound of Javier’s voice, have sort of lulled while driving. But he gathered himself and nodded towards the man.

“Head in there and follow the track for a bit,” Javier said, pointing the way.

“Thanks.”

“Hey, slow up! I’ll jump on.”

Arthur bade the horses to slow for a moment, allowing Javier to quickly jump on and cling to the back, before the horses were urged onwards still. Cutting through the tree and eventually finding the other wagons all parked and parking themselves. Hosea and Javier got off as Dutch started his grandstanding, Arthur frowning slightly.

“Hey,” Charles said before Arthur could jump down.

“Yeah, honey?”

Charles’ slid a hand along his lower belly and Arthur sucked a breath in through his teeth.

Arthur could barely heed word to anyone else in camp after that.

* * *

As soon as it got dark, Arthur set up the flaps to give his bed more privacy and Charles was slipping inside with him.

“Been a few weeks,” Arthur rumbled as they both hurriedly got out of their clothing, tossing them onto Arthur’s chest of clothing. More and more of Charles’ body got revealed and that heat in Arthur’s lower belly got a hell of a lot worse. He just wanted the man’s hands all over him, wanted that amazing body on him. He just wanted to touch the man he loved so much.

“Yeah,” Charles breathed loudly, kicking out of his boots and then tugging his socks off. When he shrugged out of his pants, Arthur moaned softly.

“We gotta start hunting together again. Really get some alone time, be loud too,” Arthur said as he shrugged out of his suspenders and dropped his trousers. “Like I know you like, sweetheart.”

“What can I say, I like knowing my man is enjoying himself,” Charles grinned, all smoldering heat that had Arthur burning to his eartips.

Once bare, Arthur got into his cot and pulled Charles on top of him in it and the two melted into a kiss. A good, long and proper kiss that had Arthur’s stomach doing flips as Charles settled fully on him and those two bow and shotgun calloused hands came up to cup his face. All softness and sweetness that Arthur loved and wanted and needed. And knew that Charles would smother him.

“Can’t be… loud here…” Arthur managed between kisses.

“I know,” Charles grumbled playfully, kissing him sweetly and then starting to shimmy downwards, trailing kisses as he went. Down and down, kissing along the skin of Arthur’s throat, collarbone, his chest, his belly, on his belly button, on his pubic mound. And then those amazing hands were sliding down to drag down the length of his thighs, stopping to catch his knees and gently push them apart.

“Honeysuckle,” Arthur moaned weakly.

Arthur placed a hand over his own mouth, stifling his moans as Charles put his mouth on him in a way that was quickly turning Arthur’s spine to pure hot mush. His free hand went to grab at one of the hands on his thighs, Charles switching to grab it and making Arthur ache even more. He moaned weakly as Charles undid him with that blessed tongue and lips, the occasional scrape of teeth only further riling him up as he melted into the cot.

Would have liked to have been loud. If there was one rather… ‘not pure’ thing that he liked about being physical with Charles was that Charles seemed to get all sorts of undone by hearing him moan. Always loved seeing that warm arousal in Charles’ eyes as he heard it, loving heading that small and weak little moan whenever he was a little extra loud, loved feeling those hands on his pause and then squeeze reverently. Charles said he liked to hear, but Arthur liked watching the man listening to him.

“Honey I’m…” Arthur said, taking his hand away for a moment before pressing his hand back to his mouth.

Charles kept at it, sucking and licking at Arthur, melting him further and further into a puddle until his thighs started to tense further and further and his toes started to curl tight--

Arthur mewled as he pulsed and shuddered against Charles’ tongue, shuddering as he felt himself clench and spasm against his man’s mouth, spine arching off his cot as pleasure made him into a gooey pile. And then he felt limp, panting between his fingers as he felt himself throb in the afterglow, Charles pulling away to make a show at licking his mouth clean and swallowing.

“Fuck,” Arthur rasped.

“You good?”

“Very… gimme a second and I’ll love your right too, sugar.”

When Arthur caught his breath, they switch spots, Charles grinning and nibbling his lower lip as Arthur just looked and… marveled at him. Arthur was not a religious man by any means but… God be blessed for making Charles and all his perfection that Arthur got to marvel at, touch and love on.

“I am the luckiest son of a bitch that there is,” Arthur whispered reverently.

“Yeah. Now make me the same.”

Grinning as he blushed ear to ear, Arthur kissed the man’s perfect full lips. And then started kissing downwards. Charles’ chin, his strong throat, his collarbone, his chest, down the wall of his strong abdomen, along his hips, musing through his pubic hair. And then the man himself, Arthur happy to find Charles _very_ aroused, flushed with blood and wet against his tongue as he reverently licked along the entirety of the man. A moan rumbled through Arthur’s chest as he chased Charles’ taste while the man moaned softly and quietly above him.

While he used his mouth, Arthur ran his hands all over Charles’ skin, anywhere his hands could reach. Loving the warm and wiry hair dusted skin. Finally free from the winter gear and if they could get out hunting again, Arthur swore to himself to get reacquainted with every perfect inch of it again. He moaned softly at the thought of it and felt Charles jerk against his tongue.

Charles did not take long to spill over, sucking in a harsh breath and arching his hips to press himself against Arthur’s tongue. Arthur could feel the man pulse against his tongue in the throes of his bliss, keeping his tongue there to let Charles ride it out to its fullest before letting the man fall limp into the cot. And just like the cocky little shit, Arthur made a show of licking his mouth clean and swallowing, which made Charles rumble happily before pawing at his shoulders.

Eagerly following, Arthur got into bed with the gorgeous, perfect man and kissed him sweet and silly., snuggling close against him and enjoying the bliss.

After a few minutes of kissing, they pulled apart to catch their breaths and just snuggled, happy and content.

“...That was quick,” Charles said after a moment.

“It’s been a few weeks, I think we can forgive ourselves,” Arthur chuckled back.

“Still. When we go out to hunt next I am going to show you a grand ol’ time.”

“Hmm… did the tool make it?”

“Yeah, I kept it in my things. I’m really glad it’s glass, probably why it did survive that journey up the mountain.”

“Mmm, can’t wait for you to use it on me, honey.”

“Can’t wait to hear you howling when I do.”

Arthur moaned and started feverishly kissing the man again. Maybe if they got hot enough they could go another round, but Arthur was tired and he just really wanted to spend the night in Charles’ arms and sleep some of the woes of the journey away. In the morning, it would likely be out to the daily grind again. But at least they were off that hell mountain and with the weather a hell of a lot warmer, Arthur and Charles could go out and work off some stress by hunting down game and fucking like they wanted in the big, wide open and mostly empty woods.

“We made it, sugar,” Arthur sighed happily against Charles’ lips.

“We sure did… now let’s avoid a repeat of that one time--”

“It was just Mary-Beth accidentally walkin’ in on us, and not like she saw anythin’,” Arthur laughed, but getting their drawers and pants to throw on before they hunkered down to sleep for the night.

Charles chuckled and kissed his cheek.

“How about in the morning, we go out and hunt deer?”

“Sounds like a plan, darlin’.”


End file.
